Most of humanity gets by without reading novels or poetry, and no one would deny the richness of their thoughts.

He would work through the night and sleep until lunch. There wasn't really much else to do. Make something, and die.

I've always thought cruelty is a failure of imagination.

No one knew about the squirrel’s skull beneath Briony bed, but no one wanted to know.

However, withered, I still feel myself to be exactly the same person I've always been. Hard to explain that to the young. we may look truly reptilian, but we're not a separate tribe.

It was thought, perception, sensations that interested her, the conscious mind as a river through time, and how to represent its onward roll, as well as all the tributaries that would swell it, and the obstacles that would divert it. If only she could reproduce the clear light of a summer's morning.

...beauty, she had discovered occupied a narrow band. Ugliness, on the hand, had infinite variation.